Friday, May 11, 2007

Ode to Chip MacGregor on the Anniversary of His Birth

I posted this on the site of my beloved Chip. For his birthday, he's holding a really bad poetry contest, and well, since I do pride myself on my really bad poetry, I had to share.

Ode to Chip MacGregor on the Anniversary of His Birth

That Chip MacGregor, the man can sing.Were we not already otherwise wed, I'd offer him a ring.I first met him, singing his ditty.I tried to think of something to say to him that would be witty.With a smile, I asked, "who might you be?""Why, I'm Chip MacGregor, can't you see?"

To the strain of amazing grace sung by a beautiful girl,I thought I'd give eye-opening a whirl."No," said I-"tell me, what do you do?""I'm a big shot publisher, how about you?""I'm Danica, not the race car driver.""Pity. For that, I'd give a fiver."

Not really, but it sounded good.And you laughed, as I knew you would.We joked and had funBut alas, the evening was done.In my green chariot we did leave.When I dropped him off, we ran into a Baldwin named Steve.

We chatted for a while then he wanted to sleep.Our parting came, but I did not weep.As Scarlett O'Hara said, tomorrow is another day.Because the MacGregors and McDonalds are cousins, I found a wayTo see him again, I did.At our previous antics, we giggled like a kid.From scary agents I saved him.Otherwise his life would have been grim.

Then from Denver he departed.This next line begs the word, "farted"But I'm sure it doesn't meet the CBA rule.I guess I should go back to schoolTo learn how to write and readAccording to industry need.

The next event in this epic taleWas a whopper I was sure had to be a whale.A friend put a bug in my earThat Chip's end as publisher was near.An Agent! That foul form of beast.He could have warned me at least.

That the evil scourge I had saved him fromWas the exact creature he was going to become.However, he was my cousin, my friend.Despite his change in career, I'd stay with him to the end.Who else would liven up the loop?Especially following posts that make my eyelids droop.

Chip MacGregor, the man is terriby funny.And to say that, he paid me no money.Which is why my greatest hopeFor a man who never lets me mopeThat on the anniversary of his birthI would craft a poem very much worthA reaction that could only be called vomit.With such terrible writing, I'm sure I can count on it.

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About Me

A dedicated professional in the publishing world, Danica Favorite works as an online moderator for a major publisher where she connects readers and writers with new fiction releases. With four active kids, a devilishly handsome husband and insane dog, Danica’s never short of inspiration when it comes to writing characters for her latest book. She and her family make their home in Denver, Colorado, where they enjoy the mountain lifestyle with the comforts of the city.